


A Long Time Without

by lobsterMatriarch



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Accidents, Established Relationship, F/M, Generic Lavellan so you can imagine your own, Humor, Innuendo, UST, dysfunction, interruptions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-28 17:26:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3863146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lobsterMatriarch/pseuds/lobsterMatriarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place between the Winter Palace and the Arbor Wilds. Lavellan and Cullen are together at last, if they actually have any time for each other. Which they really, really don't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a bit of fun I was having, but it got away from me towards the end. I'm so sorry.
> 
> Porn to come in chapter 2, most likely.

He must know by now that she was looking, though Creators preserve her she tried so hard to be discreet. Not for the first time she wondered if she had ever really grown into leadership at all or if she was just a mess of hormones vaguely squashed into an Inquisitorial shape. Honestly, his leather-covered bottom really shouldn’t be all that intriguing considering the fact that she’d seen it naked.

He shifted his hips slightly to the left, switching out one of his markers on the war table. Would anyone notice if she grabbed it? Would he mind? He probably would so she would keep her hands to herself, a decision which had absolutely nothing to do with Leliana’s half smile and Josephine’s poorly concealed giggling.

Cullen rose slowly, resting his hands on his sword, and she did her best to not think of where else his hands could be at the moment. Where they might have been last night. What they did the last time they had a moment together, fingers tight around her thighs, breath hot against her—

“Once the sulphur pits are cleared, Rylen should have a much easier time finding resources. With your permission, Inquisitor, I’d like to send more men to the area to investigate… is something funny?”

“Not at all, Commander,” Leliana was kind enough to cover. “I was just remembering something the Inquisitor mentioned to me over dinner. My apologies.”

“Yes, well… if we could get back to work, then?”

“Of course.” Leliana’s wink was slight enough for Cullen to miss it, but open enough to cause her to flush.

Fenhedis, why had she thought it a good idea to talk to Leliana about any of this? Yes, they had been busy, yes, her intimate life had suffered for it, and yes, she certainly could use her spymaster’s advice on discretion in a keep where everyone seemed to be watching her _all the time_ , but she had hoped her master of secrets would be a bit more… secretive. It was hard enough with everyone expecting her to be some sort of inspirational figure when really she wanted a little time to herself, but not having seen Cullen since their expedition on the desk was driving her mad. Just one night, that was all she asked. Fifteen minutes would do. Was that really so much?

Cullen was back over the table, and for a brief moment she resented his seemingly unending reserve of willpower. All of that templar training must have done him well, or maybe he was simply used to going without. Could shems go this long without issue? Considering the current state of Thedas she had never put the study of human sexuality high on her list of priorities, but this might have to change now that she’s taken one to her bed.

“Inquisitor?” Cullen was looking to her again, his face the picture of professional indifference.

“Of course.” She could feel the blush still spread over her cheeks, but hoped her set jaw and shoulders would compensate. “But send only as many men as you can spare, we still need reserves if we plan to hold against the templars in Emprise du Lion.”

He bowed slightly, hunching over the table to set another marker for reference.

His neck would look so much better with a bite just below his ear.

 

* * *

  
“Do you have some time?”

His smile was discreet, probably to avoid suspicion from the constant stream of scouts in and out of his office, but he knew exactly what she was asking. “For you, always.”

Yes. Yes, _finally_ , yes.

It was hard not to seem too eager with her stomach leaping to her throat, but somehow she managed her composure as he stepped ever so slightly towards her. Her hands found his, guiding them to her waist.

“I think we’ve both done enough work for the day.”

His chest was steady, warm, his voice low as he brought his lips to her ear. “I think you might be right.”

“Commander!”

Creators help her, that scout had better guard his privates before she or Cullen decided to feed them to the dogs.

“Emergency situation at Adamant, sir.” Leliana had picked a brave one this time. Lavellan could barely see his knees shaking. “The Chargers are requesting your assistance as soon as possible.”

“It can wait.” Cullen growled.

“Sir—“

“ _It can wait._ ” She barely managed to stop him from advancing on the poor boy, who dropped his report through trembling fingers.

“Sir, the demons are proving to be more than they can handle. If we wait much longer it will—“ Cullen had taken a step closer, and the poor boy nearly choked on his spit.

Lavellan sighed. “Cullen…”

He turned back to her, apology written on his already exhausted face. Responsibility comes first, they knew that. Responsibility always comes first. How on earth would she break the news to Bull that the chargers had died because they were too busy bent over a desk to save them?

“Another time?” She offered, hoping her fake optimism was convincing.

He nodded. “As soon as I’m done, I’ll find you. I promise.”

She waited long past nightfall before finally falling asleep.

  
  

* * *

                                                                                                   
  
Two weeks in Ghilan’nain’s Grove would be bad for anyone’s morale, and the Gurgut webbing stuck under her nails wasn’t helping. If she was lucky the gore and muck hadn’t completely ruined her robes, but she was sure her hair was a lost cause. By the end of the second week she could hardly get a brush through it, not for lack of trying.

They’d had work to do, because there was _always_ work to do, dead bodies returning to life, a First Enchanter to win the favor of by dissecting wyvern corpses (Madame de Fer better have an explanation for that one later), a high dragon, a neighboring Clan in trouble, something or other that needed urgent attention before more lives were lost. It all made mourning her hair seem a bit frivolous, but with the rest of her personal life hanging by a thread she was willing to allow herself one indulgence.

A knock on her door interrupted her spiral of self pity, and she hobbled towards it on legs still aching from gripping a saddle. Whoever it was would just have to deal with her frizzy hair and bloodstained nails.

Of course it was Cullen. Of course he looked spectacular. And of course he would choose this exact second to visit her quarters.

“I thought you didn’t want people to gossip?” She said, and managed a small smile through her embarrassment.

“As it turns out, there are worse things than gossip.” With the way he was looking at her, she could almost forget the mold forming in her shoes.

“Oh? Like what?”

“You being gone for weeks.” He tucked a stray bit of the knotted mess behind her ear. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too…” she tried so hard not be embarrassed, or to think about the muck she hadn’t had a chance to wash off yet. She tried to focus on Cullen’s hand under her jaw, still warm through leather gloves, as it gently tilted her chin up to face him. Creators, he was going to kiss her. Would he be able to taste the wyvern residue? Would he find her repulsive? Her skin was practically crawling with filth, she was sure he would he would have noticed it by now.

“Wait.” She turned her head as he leaned in, and he pulled back as if burned.

“I’m sorry! Was this— if this was too forward, I understand. I can come back another time…”

“No, it’s not that. I’m so glad you’re here, really, I am.” Half a smile tugged at his lips, and she briefly wondered if it would be possible to ignore the grime if he took her from behind instead. No, her back was just as foul as her front.

“But?”

She sighed. “Have you actually looked at me?”

“Of course. You’re—“ She was certain he was planning to say beautiful, or something equally sweet but untrue, before he really looked at her. Matted hair and dirt-smudged cheeks and probably unfavorable smell, she must be an absolute wreck. She desperately hoped she’d managed to get all the dried blood off her scalp during the ride back from camp.

“Would you like me to ready you a bath?” He finally asked, and nothing in the world had ever seemed so nice. He slung her arm over his shoulder and halfway carried her back upstairs to her bed, and if he noticed her stink he was polite enough to keep it to herself.

“Wait here. I’ll be back soon.” He ran his hand over her cheek before leaving, letting his thumb brush her lips. She kissed it briefly as it passed.

Lavellan stared at the ceiling, listening to his footsteps as he made his way back down the stairs and taking brief inventory of her body and all its aches and pains. Her legs were still killing her and it would take forever to get her hair clean, and all this was saying nothing for the effort it took just to keep her eyes open. But Cullen, gorgeous Cullen, joining her in the bath and then on the bed, hands on her bare skin…

Skin that she had pulled three leeches off the day before.

She tried to steer her mind back to Cullen, gold hair soaked with sweat, face buried in her shoulder as he panted her name…

Leeches.

She couldn’t let this moment go to waste, not with the way he lit up when she answered the door, not when they hadn’t had time together in nearly eight weeks.

_Leeches._

With a groan, she rolled over and smothered her face in her pillow. There was no way it could happen tonight.  
  
                                                                                                   

* * *

  
  
Ten weeks.

_Ten weeks._

After that one lovely night of baths and literal sleeping, she and Cullen, as she had dreaded, hadn’t found a single moment of peace. She was barely free of the scars of the last dragon when they found a new one causing trouble along the Storm Coast, as if she hadn’t had enough of the damp. By the time she got back Cullen had been called away to the desert to confer with Knight-Captain Rylen about the recent casualties in the desert. He’d be back soon, surely, and until then she could try to drown her disappointment in cheap ale and whatever it was Bull kept pouring into her.

“You know, Boss.” He said, handing her another tankard. “I know that look.”

No. This could absolutely not be happening, this wasn’t a conversation she was willing to have.

“The hunched shoulders, sad eyes, never mind the bad attitude. I—“

“ —Am Ben-Hassrath, and Ben-Hassrath always know everything about everyone all the time.” She sighed, eyes in her mug.

“I was actually going to say you were practically broadcasting it to the tavern, but yes, I could tell some time back. How long has Cullen been gone now?”

Two weeks, three days and a couple of hours. “A while.”

“Uh huh. And how long before that since you two had any time alone?”

She groaned, planting her face squarely into the wooden table.

“Right.” Bull pulled up the stool next to her, flagging Cabot down for a refill. “So, what exactly is the problem? Cullen a virgin?”

Lavellan rolled her eyes. “No he’s not a virgin.”

“Can’t blame me for asking. A man that uptight has to have some kind of hangup.”

“Can we please talk about something else?”

“I’m just trying to help. Is it a matter of skill, then?”

“Skill is fine.” A quiet voice from above caused Lavellan to sink down in her seat.

_Creators, not now._

“Hands roam free, gentle, guiding, grasping, fingers locking into hers as she shakes, but the shaking is good, clears her mind, reminds her who she fights for. She misses it very much.” Cole stared down from his perch above the tavern, wide eyes unblinking. Lavellan wondered if she could fake passing out and escape this hell entirely.

Bull chuckled. “Boss has got it bad, then.”

“Not bad. Good.” Cole tilted his head. “I just said so.”

“Figure of speech, kid.”

If she rolled when she hit the ground, she could probably jump out the window and be back in her quarters before anyone was the wiser.

“It’s a different kind of hurt, missing someone.” Cole continued. “Something that isn’t there, void, a hole that needs to be filled.”

Bull snorted. “Yeah, that pretty much sums up the problem.”

That was it. She stood much too quickly, trying her best to keep herself upright while her vision swam, blissfully oblivious to how much attention she’d just drawn to herself as her chair fell over sideways.

“Oh come on, Boss, we’re just teasing. Well, I am, anyway.”

“Bed.” She said flatly.

“At least let me offer you a little advice. How often does he use his mouth?”

She stumbled out the door as quickly as she could manage, wishing there was some way to return to her quarters without having to show her face in the main hall. Here she was, Herald of Andraste, drunk, about to make a complete fool of herself in front of Creators know who, and suddenly feeling very, very lonely.

She settled down on the bottom step, hoping that maybe the mountain’s chill would snap her out of her stupor before she had to walk through the crowd, fighting a losing battle against the tears threatening to overtake her.

It took a moment for her to register that there was someone sitting down next to her. Blurry, tall, with a straight back and a strong jaw. Lavellan racked her brain for a name, but her brain was hardly cooperating.

“They cannot imagine the pressure you must be under. I scarcely can, most of the time.” A woman’s voice, heavily accented. Cassandra.

Lavellan’s laugh sounded more wet than she would like. “Bull leads a mercenary group and somehow he still manages to balance everything. Why is it so much harder for me?”

“I do not have an answer for that. I wish I did.” She smiled, bitter. “It’s not a skill I have mastered myself.”

They sat for a moment in comfortable silence, allowing Lavellan’s vision to stabilize as the stars passed overhead. Songs rose and faded from the tavern as the night passed, and soon the conversation began to die down. People were retreating to their beds for the evening, something she likely should have done before her third pint of ale. Silence in Skyhold was an impossible thing, and she supposed this was the closest to it she would ever get.

“You should take elfroot in the morning.” Cassandra started to her feet, offering her hand to Lavellan. “It will make the war council easier.”

Lavellan took the offered hand, grateful for the added stability. Her vision had cleared and her feet had started to listen to her, not that it mattered with the main hall nearly empty at this hour. She nodded her thanks to Cassandra before turning to her quarters.

“Inquisitor?”

She glanced back over her shoulder, still too tired to form an answer.

“I am sorry for all we ask. I hope you find it worthwhile.”

 

* * *

                                                                                                    
  
“Inquisitor?”

Fenedhis lasa, she would come to hate that title.

“Inquisitor, we need your decision on whether we should ally with Tevinter or Nevarra. I have already made my recommendation, but the decision is yours.” Josephine stood behind her, clipboard in hand and quill at the ready. She supposed she should be grateful that she had someone like Josephine to decipher all the paperwork for her, but a decision like this came with heavy consequences and the potential to make powerful enemies. As much as she loathed Tevinter practices, spurning the empire didn’t seem like the wisest plan of action, and though Nevarra would make a strong ally their king was hardly young, and there were no promises that the next monarch would hold to his words.

“Remind me what they offer?” She was stalling and Josephine knew it, but was kind enough to humor her anyway.

“A full alliance from both countries. Nevarra’s king has—“

She was interrupted by a horn sounding near the front gates. A party had returned. Lavellan’s heart leapt to her throat.

“—Nevarra’s king has offered—“

“Extend the alliance to Nevarra.”

“Are you certain?” Josephine asked, but she was already headed for the door.

“Yes, yes, that’s fine!” She said with a smile. Alliances were all a coin flip anyway.

Three more weeks after a varghast attack had turned into a bandit attack had turned into a Venatori conspiracy, keeping Cullen trapped in the Western Approach without any means for a safe return, he was back. She bounded down the stairs two at a time, racing down toward the entrance where the troops were flooding in now. She barely managed to contain herself, waiting by the stables as soldier after soldier dismounted and greeted their families. She bit her lip, scanning their faces until she finally saw that glint of gold and red.

“Cullen!”

He straightened at the sound of her voice, face suddenly younger, brighter, scanning the crowds until his eyes landed on her. He dismounted, already halfway to her by the time he was on the ground. She ran to him, crushing her lips against his while his hands cupped her face. He was warm, feverishly hot from the desert sun and she was so completely in disbelief that he was actually here. He pressed his forehead to hers and she reveled in the warmth, burying her fingers in the thick fur of his mantle.

“I’m so sorry. I tried to get back, but safe passage just wasn’t possible.”

She shook her head. He was back, and the rest didn’t matter.

“I wrote you as often as I could, but they were killing ravens just outside the keep…”

“I wrote to you, too.” She said. She hadn’t managed many letters between her duties and the few hours of sleep she managed, but the lack of replies made more sense now.

“Maker, I never… I’m so sorry.” She just pulled him closer.

They stayed together for a long while, ignoring the prying eyes of nobility and officers alike while they each took in the other. It wasn’t until a raven nearby flew up to the highest tower of the keep that they realized they were being watched.

Cullen pulled away just long enough to murmur “my office?”, and she didn’t need to be asked twice. She practically dragged him up the stairs, along the battlements, slamming the door shut behind her as they entered his tower and making sure to lock it.

“Hurry, get the other doors!” She could hardly get the smile off her face as Cullen hurried to oblige. Was this actually happening?

He didn’t allow time for doubt to set in, pressing her back against the door and settling his knee between her legs as he bore down on her. She kissed him like she had forgotten how to, teeth and tongue scraping his lower lip as her heart sang its approval. Within seconds she was peeling off his armor.

“You’re really here.” She managed in between kisses. His stubble scratched her lips as they made their way down his throat.

“I am.” His fingers worked around the clasps on her leather. “And it seems like we finally have a moment alone.”

She nipped his ear, delighting in the shiver it sent across his skin. “Cullen, it’s been so long—“ he silenced her with his mouth on hers, having abandoned the clasps to push his hands underneath the hem of her shirt instead.

“I worried you’d forget me by the time I came back.” He leaned in, thigh pressing gently between her legs. She bit back a noise, rolling her hips along him, thrilled to feel him hard already. She brought her hand down, cupping him against her palm and feeling him gasp as he tucked into her shoulder.

“Did you think of me while you were gone?” She whispered, dragging her hand along the length of him.

“Maker, yes… all the time…”

“Of my mouth on you like this?” She licked her path back down his throat, teeth worrying the same spot just below his ear, and she pressed her hips to his with fervor. He gasped as she ground against him, his weight against his hand on the door, half-lidded eyes focused on her again. The way he looked at her… she wanted him closer, now, she wanted to have him at her mercy as he came undone.

She rolled her hips again and took in his gasp of pleasure, though it was punctured with something else.

“Wait, no…” he struggled for breath. “Just a minute…”

“Tell me where you want me.” She whispered into his ear. He was shaking again, buried in her shoulder as her hand found him again.

“Against the wall?” She suggested, undoing the lacing of his pants. “On your desk?” She slid her hand inside. He was already so sensitive, shuddering against her, thick and hard against her hand…

“No, don’t—“ He jerked against her, trying to choke back a strangled noise.

She felt the sticky surprise before either of them fully realized what had happened, Cullen still pinning her against the door as it spurted over her hand and onto the ground. A second spurt followed, waiting to add to the embarrassment as it dripped over her still-buttoned leggings.

_This is a joke. This can’t be happening._

Cullen was frozen, still buried in her shoulder while she stared at the ceiling above her. There she would stay, admiring the ladder and the vines adorning the second floor, the urgent warmth of arousal draining out of her bit by bit. She went boneless against the door with Cullen even more boneless against her, semen still dripping from her fingers. Sunlight filtered in through a hole in the roof, and she briefly wondered how difficult it would be to get stains out of leather.

In time, Cullen pulled away, eyes planted firmly on the ground. He was already a reigning champion of self-flagellation, but in the last four minutes he seemed to have reached a new level of complete and utter humiliation.

“I…”

“Please don’t apologize.” She turned her focus back to the ceiling, resisting the urge to wipe her hand on her clothing.

“At least let me help clean you up.”

She nodded weakly, watching him with mild interest as he scrambled to find a rag.

“It’s just been a long time…” He said, half buried underneath his desk. He finally reemerged with some scraps of cloth, though the small victory didn’t ease his embarrassment.

“You don’t need to explain yourself.” She said.

“Once you’re cleaned up, I can still— I mean, there are other ways—“

She nodded again. Those other ways might sound much more appealing in a few minutes, once she was a bit less sticky, but right now she wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry.

 

* * *

                                                                                                    
  
Cullen had tried to hide from her in the days following the mishap, but Lavellan wouldn’t have it. With their assault on the Arbor Wilds starting to move past planning and into the beginning stages of action she was wearing down faster than ever, and she would be damned if she let one sticky situation ruin one of the few benefits that came with being the inquisitor.

That is, if she could ever get her commander to cooperate.

She managed to corner him one day in the training yards, just as he was finishing drills for the troops. She did love watching him work. He was struggling physically, but he tried his hardest not to make it known and certainly never let it show in a fight. He held his shield at the same perfect angle every time as he demonstrated for his men, barked the orders that he hoped might protect them in the siege to come, and did it all with perfect confidence and resolve.

In all of the noise, it was terribly easy for her to sneak up on him.

“I need to borrow you.”

He jumped about two feet, and she tried her best not to laugh at his expense.

“I—“ He tried searching for an excuse, but found none. “Of course, Inquisitor. Give me a moment.”

He dismissed the troops with a parting comment about practice and success, before leading her to a secluded corner by the barracks. Lavellan watched over his shoulder as the recruits shelved their practice weapons, unlacing their boots and trying to pretend they had no interest in her and Cullen’s affair.

“Perhaps we should find someplace more private?”

He nodded tersely, and she wondered not for the first time just how much he was dreading being alone with her.

He started walking before she realized what was happening, but she followed. She didn’t think he would try to run, but she wasn’t really sure what to put past him these days. Still, just the fact that he agreed to speak with her was progress… even if they were heading through the kitchens.

“I didn’t think you were much for exploring.” She said, following him as he stepped out the door through a cobweb-infested corridor.

“This is a good place to finish my work.” He was still avoiding her eyes. “There are always so many people in and out of my office, and I was never particularly gifted with the bureaucratic areas of command. It’s much easier to focus in the quiet.”

He opened another door, one that she already knew led to a small, secluded library filled with dust.

“I thought I was the only one who knew about this place.”

“Disappointed?”

“Hardly, so long as you’re the one I’m sharing it with.” He managed a small smile at that, though he still kept his eyes off her at all costs. They sat together in awkward silence for a moment, Cullen clearly struggling not to rub the back of his neck, before Lavellan finally cracked.

“So…” She started, trying to lean forward to catch his eyes.

He glanced up to her, then immediately away. “What is it you wanted?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

He was silent, shifting in place.

“You leave the room as soon as I enter, and when we’re forced to interact you call me Inquisitor and leave as soon as our business is done.”

“…Can you honestly blame me?”

“Of course I can blame you!” She stepped towards him, infuriated to find that he took a step back. “We’re planning a massive assault on Corypheus’s forces that we may or may not survive, and you would leave things like this? And over what, an early finish? Your pride?”

“Yes, my pride! Do you know how embarrassing that was?”

“You left me alone!”

“I—“ He paused, anger deflating as his shoulders slumped. “…I thought you would be disappointed in me.”

“I…”

“You see? You’re hesitating.”

“You’re putting words in my mouth!”

“Maker’s breath.” Cullen began to pace the room, his resolve finally broken as he brought his hand to the nape of his neck. “Forgive me. I couldn’t imagine how I would face you after that.”

“You don’t have to imagine.” She said. “I’m right here.”

He finally looked up at her, meeting her eyes for longer than a split second for the first time since his return. She thought back to how excited she’d been, how for a brief moment she got to really be a girl her age who was just excited to see her lover, how all of the pressure on her lifted for just a moment, just long enough to remind her of what her life might be like once this nightmare was through.

“Don’t make assumptions about me, what I do and don’t want,” She swallowed, tense. “Or how I feel. I love you.”

She’d gotten much closer to him, close enough to touch, though she didn’t quite dare to yet.

“I told you that once and nothing’s changed.”

His kiss was quick and sudden, like their first one on the battlements, and just like that she let herself get swept away. His hands found her waist, her hair, anything they could hold on to as he pulled her closer, while she dragged him down to meet her by the scruff of his mantle.

He pulled back with a poorly concealed smile, worrying his lower lip with his teeth.

“I love you too.”

She let out a relieved sigh that eventually faded to laughter, letting her face fall forward into his chest.

“Good. Can we be done with this dancing around each other nonsense now?”

“Maker, yes.” She could feel the laughter in his chest as he set his head down over hers. “At least, if we can find time for it.”

And then it dawned on her. Here they were, alone, in a secluded space that very possibly only they knew about, both of them with potential time to spare and no scouts or messengers to find them.

She looked up at him, but his eyes were already on her. For a moment, they both considered each other.

Cullen nearly tore her shirt open as she ripped at his cloak, undoing the straps of his armor with deft hands while his teeth worked at her lip.

“Wait!” She paused, though it took him a moment to pull away.

“What?”

“You’re prepared for this?” She asked. “No ‘long time’ without? I can use a more hands-off approach if that would—“

He pushed her playfully, smirk fixed firmly in place as he started his work on her leggings.

“So I do have something to prove after all.” He said, sinking to his knees.

Oh, she certainly hoped so.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes things are awkward.

About seven seconds later she found herself a shaking mess. Her knees buckled beneath her, and her grip on Cullen’s shoulders was all that stood between her and the dusty floor. It took him a moment to recognize what had happened, his tongue still moving even as her hips gave out.

They both froze as she discreetly tried to regain her balance. She couldn’t hide the way her knees shook or the crescent moon indents her fingernails had left behind, but maybe, maybe if she managed to keep herself upright, he would brush it off. 

She took a step, hoping for stability but forgetting the leggings still down around her ankles. Somehow, between Cullen and the bookshelf, she managed not to hit the ground.

Cullen pulled back to look at her, slick still shining off his lips as they set into a frown.

She managed a sheepish smile. 

“…You’ve finished, then.” He said, voice flat with disappointment.

Heat rose to her cheeks, though she fought off the initial urge to be defensive. He must know that there were certain… anatomical differences, that people with parts like hers didn’t have to worry so much about finishing early, but considering recent events it seemed insensitive to remind him.

Or, did he know? Was it the same for shems? She should never assume anything about humans, maybe human anatomy was completely different— she had never tried explaining this sort of thing to anyone before. Where would she begin?

“So.” He started, interrupting her mental lesson planning. “Is this the part where I make things awkward and then you sulk for a full week?”

All of her worry punctured, and she could have laughed from relief. Cullen was always an abysmal liar. Even now she could see the smirk tugging at the corners of his scowl, the twitch of his eyebrow that gave away his amusement.

“…Did my terribly grim commander really just make a joke?”

His smile cracked, hands steady at her hips as he helped her get her footing. 

“Did you have a sense of humor all along, or is this a new talent?” She eyed him up and down. “Should I be worried about you?”

He was back on his feet and kissing her cheek, all stubble and tongue and residual sex-smell as he worked his way to her ear. She pushed him back with a hand on his chest.

“Cullen, are you dying?”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“But that’s the whole point, you actually _are_ being ridiculous. I’m concerned.”

He silenced her with a kiss, fingers lifting gently under her chin. He lingered there for a while, maybe teasing, maybe letting the sense of urgency pass, maybe just letting her enjoy the aftershocks of her first, and very unexpected, orgasm. His thumb traced her cheek and for just a moment, her heart was very, very full.

She followed his lips as he pulled back, settling for resting in his shoulder as he held her steady. 

“We have time for more than one, you know.” He murmured into her ear, and she smiled against him. His hands were wandering again, creeping closer to the bare skin of her thighs, and she could feel the strain of his erection as his hips brushed hers. 

“Even if we don’t, we can—” She cut him off with her lips back on his, reaching to tangle her hands in his hair. She pulled him down, closer, taking her time to enjoy her taste on his tongue, the heat of his chest against her, the cords of muscle through his shoulders and back that were so often hidden under layers of metal and fur. She broke away just long enough to pull the linen shirt over his head, the last barrier between skin and skin, and he held her steady while she kicked her feet out of her leggings.

The luxury of it all, of having a moment to just admire the roughness of his hands, was almost overwhelming by itself. 

His fingers brushed between her legs and she gasped. She could still feel his cock pressed against her thigh, begging for attention, but his lacing proved to be too much for one hand. She settled for palming him through the leather and listened as his breathing quickened. 

He parted her more gently than he needed to, and she took hold of his hand.

“It’s okay.” She pressed her hips into him, grinding against his fingers. “You know I won’t break.”

The hitch in his breath shot straight down to her core, and he pressed forward, two fingers sliding easily inside her. She was still wet, soaked all the way down her thighs from earlier and he moved further inside her. He ground his palm against her, and she had to bite her lip to contain her cry. 

“Don’t hold back.” His breath was hot in her ear. “Please, I want to hear you.”

“Cullen…” She practically whimpered, and he curved his fingers in response. Sparks shot through her as he rubbed quick and fast, heat spreading down through her fingertips and her toes, and for a moment she was afraid she might come again. 

“Wait—“ She nipped his ear for attention. “Wait.” 

He paused reluctantly, pulling back to look at her with darkened eyes. He leaned in to kiss her, hungry, but she stopped him again. 

“I want you inside me when I come.”

The effect of her words was instant. His throat moved with the effort of a swallow, and he undid the lacing of his trousers with ease. 

It was easy to forget how much larger than her he was sometimes, but as he took her into his arms she couldn’t think of anything else. He set her on the desk (would it always be desks with them?), sweeping it clear of dust and books so she had a space to lie. He took a moment there to admire her, to run his hand over her stomach and down over her thigh, but they had time. They had as long as it would take for anyone to find them, and as far as she knew that would be forever. 

She felt the head of his cock press against her, and her breath caught in her throat, and he leaned down to kiss her once more before he pushed inside. 

Her stomach tightened at the sensation, the warm, wonderful feeling of being full of him. She let her hands settle above his shoulders, feeling the muscles in his back shaking as he pulled out slowly, oh so slowly, and then—

His hips slapped against hers as he buried himself to the hilt, gasping. 

“Maker…” He panted, and she threaded her fingers with his. He waited, frozen in place, and for a brief moment she worried she had done something wrong.

Then, so quietly she might have missed it, he was laughing.

Never had her lack of knowledge of shemlen sexuality seemed like such a grave oversight. Was this standard, or had she done something wrong? Did she look silly? She had never really thought about what she must look like during the act, but she was sure she must make some interesting faces.

“What’s funny?” She asked.

“I— no!” His smile faded. “It’s not, it’s… nothing to do with you.” 

“You’re halfway inside me. I would hope it’s something to do with me.”

She could see the blush already creeping its way along his ears, and he struggled to avoid her gaze.

“…It’s difficult to explain.”

She closed her eyes, praying to whatever gods were listening that he wasn’t about to tell her that he came again.

He sighed. “I’m relieved, I suppose.”

“Relieved?” She snapped up to look at him. 

“Trying to find more than ten minutes to spend with you has been… frankly, it’s been absurd. You had to corner me in an abandoned library to manage it.” His fingers squeezed gently, still threaded with hers. “I suppose, finally being with you like this… well, it was hard to contain my reaction.”

She watched him for a moment, making a note of his rarely used laugh lines. There must be dust under her back left behind from the Exalted Age and she was resting her head on a book about the color green. Before she knew it, she was laughing too. 

He joined her, louder this time, and she pulled him to her chest and let his stubble tickle her collarbone. 

“Ar lath ma, vhenan.”

He glanced up at her, smile stuck on his face. “What does that mean?”

“It means 'why did you stop?'” 

Abruptly he rose, taking her hips in hand, and his next thrust brought out a shriek of laughter. 

"Is that better?”

She shook her head, still giggling. “You’ve got to go faster! Before Leliana’s birds will find us and we’ll scar them for life.”

“Maker, you don’t really think so?” He thrust again, and she arched in response.

“If it happens it happens,” she gasped as his hips met hers. “But don’t you dare stop.”

Cullen smirked, biting his lip as he settled into a rhythm. His fingers were still at her hips as her giggling faded into gasps of pleasure. She reached for him, lifting off the desk to settle her arms around his neck, and he moved his hand to cup her breast.

“Creators, Cullen…” Her eyes met his, their cheeks sore from smiling as he leaned forward to kiss her again. They were clumsy, teeth clacking and gasping for air as they moved together, her tongue tracing along his bottom lip to kiss down the line of his neck. 

He turned her hips before he thrust again, and her vision went white. She was going to fall, it was too much, the heat in her belly was going to melt her and she couldn’t hold herself up anymore. She reached for something to hold on to, clawing at his shoulders and back, but his arms snaked around her and held her, safe and strong and together. He was spectacular, sweat curling the hair on his forehead and his lips gently parted, looking at her like she was the world. 

Another sharp thrust and her vision blurred again. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, panting, his voice thick and low as he told her how much he loved to watch her come undone. 

“Come for me, love.” He murmured, more a command than a question. He ran his tongue along her ear as he thrust, deep and hard, and she clung to him with everything she had. He moved once, twice, three times, breath caught in her throat from the sheer force of him, and she shattered. 

It was nothing like the first time, no quick release like a long-awaited sneeze. Her vision blurred white and her caught fire, every breath, every movement turned to the shock of his skin on hers. He was still moving, his voice melded with hers as he grew louder and shook harder. She rode the aftershocks, letting him come back into focus just in time to watch him gasp and shake against her until finally he tensed and then stilled. She could feel him spilling inside her, warm in her belly, and the last of her shivers passed through her fingers and toes.

Together they caught their breath, knocking over several large and probably very rare books as he collapsed next to her. She squeezed his hand, running her thumb along his knuckles, and bit down the urge to start laughing again.

“How do you feel?” She asked, well aware that it would probably be a while before he was collected enough to answer. He smiled at her anyway, eyes half lidded, and brushed her sweat-soaked bangs from her forehead. 

She leaned into his side, enjoying the warmth and trying not to think too hard about the sticky, dusty mess that was forming beneath them. His chest rose and fell with his breathing, slower and slower with each second that passed.

“…I haven’t felt like this in months.” He finally answered.

“We absolutely have…” she paused for a breath, “to do this more often.” 

He managed a strained laugh before leaning in to kiss her forehead.

In another hour at most, Lavellan was sure someone would be missing them. In half an hour she would start feeling guilty and run back to make sure no one had died during her absence. But if she kept moving forward then maybe, maybe it wouldn’t always be like this. Wars end, for better or for worse, and people sometimes even survived them. 

Cullen's breathing evened out, and he suddenly noticed all the books he'd knocked over in his haste to not be standing. He leaned over to clean them up as best he could, stacking the dusty volumes on whatever empty surface he could find. She watched as he bent over, collecting yet another volume about General Not-Sheritan, and giving her an absolutely phenomenal view.

One way or another they would make it through this. It would get easier. She could make time.


End file.
